Breaking the Plan: Mill Street Series #1

by Calla, Jessica

  I crept up next to him and sat on the bench. He glanced at me quickly, then looked back at his book. “Whatcha reading?” I asked, peeking over his arm. The monstrosity rested on his inner thigh and looked about twenty pounds.

  “A book.” He moved his eyes along the page as he ignored me.

  “Like for fun?” I scowled. “What’s it about?”

  He flipped to the cover and then looked up at me. Moby Dick. “Ever heard of it?”

  “Oh, I hooked up with that guy a couple of years ago.”

  He chuckled. “I knew you’d take it there.”

  For some reason, Ollie thought I had sex with every male on campus. Sure, I spent a night with his roommate—once, like two years ago—but including Josh, I’d only been with five guys total. I liked the chase more than the catch.

  Shielding his eyes, he studied me. “Are you lost?”

  I flashed a smile. “Nope, why?”

  “This is the library.”

  I gasped dramatically, squinting up at the building behind us. “Really? I heard NJU had one.” Ollie also assumed I was at college to party, and that I had no interest in academics. Really, though, I just hated my major.

  He chuckled again.

  Leaning back on the bench, I sighed dramatically. “I have to write a paper for my last credits for my dumb Communications major and the apartment is too quiet. I miss Vi.”

  He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Me too.”

  I nudged him and pointed to his cast. “How’s your punching hand, champ?”

  “Cast stays on for three weeks.” He placed the book on the bench next to him. “Still trying to figure out how to get my girl back.”

  “Yeah. I know you’re heartbroken and all that.”

  He’d called Vi constantly until she left, although she’d stayed strong about the breakup. I felt bad for the two of them. To have been so codependent and then have to learn to live without each other must be hard, which was only one of the many reasons I’d never been interested in having a serious relationship. Who needed that drama?

  “What should I do? There has to be a way to make things better. Every question has an answer, right?” He looked at me like I had a solution for him.

  “Hmm.” I rubbed my chin. I wasn’t sure why my roommate and her ex thought I was the relationship expert, especially considering I’d never been in a relationship. “Maybe not being an asshole is a good place to start.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Helpful.”

  “That’s me.”

  “Seriously, Tar. You know her better than anyone, even me. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. If you think I need to change my entire personality, I can do that.”

  Poor Ollie. Usually, guys looked at me with lust, curiosity, or creepiness. Ollie looked at me like I held the keys to his entire world. I hated that he was turning to me for help with something so important to him because I couldn’t make it right. “You know where my loyalties lie.”

  He turned his shoulders to me, focusing on my eyes with a look meant to show me he was completely serious. “The way I see it, we have seven weeks until Violet gets back. Maybe you can train me to be what she wants.”

  Didn’t Oliver realize that if he had to change himself for the relationship, it probably wasn’t right to begin with? Even I knew that.

  “What do you want, Taryn. Tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

  Desperation was not a good look for him, but his pleading eyes made me want to do something to help the poor guy. Maybe Violet was in Austria right now, missing him like crazy and wishing she hadn’t dumped him. Maybe I could try helping, and then leave it up to fate to either make it happen or not for them.

  Behind him, a senior from my communications seminar walked by and winked at me, all confident looking. I looked down at my backpack, then back up to Ollie. “How about this? I’ll make you a deal. You write my paper for me, and I’ll help you out with Violet.”

  His face lit up, and his lips curved into a smile. “For real?” But as soon as his smile reached its peak, it dropped into a frown. “I couldn’t cheat for you. Not my style, and it’s against the rules.”

  I shrugged. I needed his help more than he needed mine, and a paper, for Nerdilicious himself, was a simple task. He probably wrote papers in his sleep. “Then no deal. You have nothing I want besides that brain of yours.”

  He twisted his lips, tapping them with his finger. Then he touched the tip of his nose and pointed to the sky. “What if we worked on your paper together? Like a collaboration. That’s not against the rules, I don’t think.”

  I nodded deliberately. “Collaboration. I like it. It’s perfect.”

  “So that’s a yes?” He held out his broken hand.

  I shook his cast. “It’s a hell yes. The first part of the paper is due in three weeks—outline, sources. I’ll need your help with that and then with my abstract. You get me started and by the time Vi comes back on Thanksgiving, I’ll have you ready and armed with tools to restart your relationship.”

  We fist bumped.

  “But I’m not going to do anything to hurt Vi, and my loyalty is still to her, got it?”

  He took off his glasses and smiled. “Got it.”

  When I looked back up at Ollie, my secret weapon to tackle this paper, his grin widened. He had plump lips, and when his smile spread over his cheeks, it made the entire shape of his face different. It was kind of cute.

  “What?” he asked, noticing me staring.

  I took the glasses out of his hand and slid them up my nose. His face became blurry through the lenses. If I was going to help Ollie, I needed to move on things. He’d require a lot of work. “Let’s start tonight.”

  Chapter Three

  Oliver

  Josh leaned against his university-issued dresser in our on campus apartment, aptly named Campus Apartments on the NJU map, watching me adjust my collar in the mirror. “You’re going out with Taryn now?”

  I shot him a death stare. “No, dummy. She’s helping me get Vi back.”

  “Vi’s in Austria,” he said.

  As if I didn’t know. “Taryn’s going to coach me. We have seven weeks to make it work, starting tonight. We’re going to have a meal together, get to know each other, and discuss Violet strategy.”

  I refocused on the mirror. If the collar on my button-down would stay flat, I’d look pretty decent. I’d gotten a haircut, finally, and my skin looked good from spending the last few sunny days on the bench at the library. I was shaved, showered, and ready for Lesson Number One in my How to Make Vi Love Me Again course, starring Professor Taryn Markos.

  Josh didn’t look amused. He ran a hand through his hair and scratched his chin. “You know I don’t talk trash about women, but trust me—Taryn’s a manipulator, Ol. You’re no match for her. Just stay on your guard, and whatever you do, don’t fuck her.”

  “I’m not into your sloppy seconds.” I threw a comb at him. “And anyway, the last person in the world I’m interested in is Taryn. She’s my girlfriend’s roommate.”

  “Ex-girl—”

  “Don’t say it.” I held up a hand. “We’re hanging out, that’s all. I think she misses Vi too.”

  He tsked. “Oh, young innocent Oliver. She’s a girl. A hot one. And you’re a guy with a broken heart. You’re vulnerable, and she’ll pounce.”

  His dramatics made me laugh. “Why would Taryn ever pounce on me? She can have her pick of men.”

  “I know women.” It was true. Josh’s life was his mom, grandmother, and four little sisters, and he considered himself an expert on the feminine mind. He grabbed my shoulders and turned me so that I had to look him in the eyes. “All I’m saying is, don’t get sucked into her web of sexy like I did.”

  I twisted out of his grasp. “Trust me. You don’t have to worry. I’m immune. And at this point, I’d do anything to get Violet back, even befriend her wackadoodle roommate.”

  But an hour later, when Taryn opened the door to the Mill Street apartment,
my first thought was that the wackadoodle roommate had the prettiest face I’d ever seen.

  “Hey.” She offered a tight-lipped smile. “You ready?”

  Like Josh had warned, her feminine web of sexy must have shot out of her wrists and captured me. Her makeup was done nicely, not all stripper-y and cat-like how she usually did it. Her hair laid over her shoulders in swirly twists, the different shades of blonde making it look textured somehow. Of course, she smelled like vanilla, which hit my nostrils as soon as the door opened and made me think of cake. Her dress was long and covered in a flower print, classy but tight. It left her tanned arms bare and hugged every curve on her body, of which she had plenty. She was as tall as me in her heels but felt larger than life, and I almost cowered in her presence.

  She furrowed her brow. “What’s wrong with you, Nerdilicious?”

  “I… uh…” I was unable to muster up even an ounce of cool to hang with her, as I tried to find my words. “You…”

  Squinting, she looked down at herself. “Oh, me?” Smoothing the material over her flat stomach, she smirked. “Just try saying, ‘You look nice.’ Come on, you can do it.”

  “Ha,” I spurted out, trying to think of a snarky reply but coming up short. When she took the step out and turned to lock the door, I checked her out.

  I was still focused on her bottom half when she turned to me. Quickly, I looked up at her face.

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re serious? It’s just a dress, Oliver. Don’t get any ideas.”

  Even though ideas were floating through my mind like a movie reel, there was no way in hell that someone like her would ever be with someone like me. Josh was right—Taryn could eat me up and spit me out without breaking a nail. Even though I could appreciate a beautiful woman, I would never want her the way I wanted Violet. Violet was my forever, and nothing was worth the risk of losing her. I just had to show Vi that I could be the responsible, trustworthy man she wanted to marry instead of the drunk asshole who punched her boss. I had to get her back. The Cambridge-to-New-York-City plan, the townhouse, the dog, it all depended on Violet.

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts and refocused on the mission at hand. Gathering my composure, I tried again. “You look nice.”

  She clapped, smiling. “Good job. You look nice too, champ.” After adjusting her bag over her shoulder, she walked past me to the stairs. “Let’s go eat.”

  Because of the grating on the steps, she had to walk on her toes and hold the railing. Her calf popped out from a slit down the back of her dress. I did my best not to stare at her legs peeking through her long skirt. When I caught up to her, I offered my arm, which she took, and we walked down the stairs together.

  Taryn decided we should go have dinner somewhere, my treat since she was low on cash. The plan was to be nice and get to know one another. In the meantime, she’d teach me how to drink and how to know when to stop, and then we’d discuss her communications paper.

  “This feels like a date,” I blurted.

  She snickered and shook her head. “No worries. It’s not.”

  We walked through the alley to Mill Street as I ran through the definition of “date” in my mind. “Technically it may be a date, Tar. We’re two single people, going to a place together, to get to know one another.”

  “Yeah, but dates anticipate romance.” We stepped onto the sidewalk and she let go of my arm. “No offense, Ollie, but I do not anticipate any romance tonight. Just progress. Progress for you, progress for me. Right?”

  “Right. Not a date.” Mill Street was hopping. We turned in the direction of Patrizio’s, the restaurant she’d picked for dinner. “Sorry I lapsed into guy mode.”

  She laughed. “If you’d lapsed into guy mode, you wouldn’t be talking about dating me. You’d be talking about having sex with me.”

  “Josh already told me not to touch you.” Apparently, blurting things out was how I dealt with nervousness.

  “Did he now? Was I that bad?” She batted her eyelashes.

  Actually, Josh never told me details about his night with Taryn, so I ignored her sarcasm. “Do guys really do that? Like, just walk up to you and ask you for sex?”

  She shrugged. “Sometimes. Or they drop a line they think may open me to the possibility.”

  “On behalf of my gender, I apologize,” I said.

  “No need. You’ve never treated me like that.”

  “I’ve never thought about you like that.” I hadn’t until about eight minutes earlier, so it wasn’t really a lie. When she didn’t reply with a snarky comment, I glanced at her. “Don’t tell me you’re disappointed.”

  “Not disappointed. It’s actually kind of nice to hear that, Oliver.”

  We slowed the pace as Patrizio’s came into view a block or so away. Outside the restaurant, she stopped and turned to me.

  The way she stared made me hyperaware of myself. “What’s up?” I asked, fidgeting.

  “Now that we’re becoming friends, do you think we can make a promise to always be honest with each other?” She looked like she was about to cry, and my instinct was to hug her or do something—anything—to stop that from happening. “It’s just, I’ve never had a guy I could talk to like this, with no pressure romantically, you know?”

  I reached out and touched her hand. “I can be that guy, and you can be that girl for me. We can share notes.”

  “You mean ‘collaborate.’” She smirked. In a flash, her face changed back to the Taryn I knew. She straightened her shoulders and gestured toward the restaurant with her chin. “Now, are you ready to learn how to be a responsible drinker?”

  Crisis averted. No tears so far. “That depends. Are you ready to discuss the role of social media in the journalism world?”

  She grimaced. “Huh?”

  “Your paper.”

  “Oh. Good topic, Oliver. I guess I’m ready?”

  “Then let’s get this party started.” I bent my elbow and she hooked her arm through mine. “What are we going to call ourselves now that we’re a team? We need a hashtag.”

  “Oh my God. You really are a nerd.”

  “That’s too long for a hashtag,” I teased.

  She opened the door to Patrizio’s and I stepped in after her. As soon as the door shut behind us, every head in the place turned to look at Taryn. Vi always looked amazing, but Taryn was a spectacle, through no fault of her own. They were probably wondering what the beautiful woman was doing with me.

  “Team We Got This? Hashtag, winners?” I whispered over her shoulder.

  As if she didn’t notice or care that people stared at her, she spun to me and patted down my pesky collar. “We can be ‘Tariver.’ Or ‘Olivyn.’”

  “Oh, I like Olivyn. Team Olivyn for the win.”

  “Olivyn it is. Now settle down there, champ. We have work to do.” Her hair slid over her shoulder when she looked around the crowded foyer.

  The maître d’ scurried to us. “Ma’am?” he asked. When Taryn pulled out her phone to check the reservation, the man’s gaze landed on her chest. Were guys just like that, or was it something about Taryn they couldn’t resist? That web of sexy, maybe?

  I sort of felt like a rock star as I took her by the elbow and led her into the restaurant behind the maître d’. At the same time, I’d never been more grateful to be immune. There was a certain freedom in knowing that we would only ever be friends. Our newfound honesty pact meant that I’d have access to all of her knowledge about Violet and women in general, but I wouldn’t have to worry about impressing her or trying to get her naked. Not that I could do either of those things.

  The maître d’ led us to a table for two in the back of the restaurant, along a window overlooking the stream behind Mill Street. I held the chair for Taryn with my good hand as she sat.

  “Thank you,” she said, looking up at me from her seat.

  “You’re welcome.” I sat across from her, tapping my thumbs together. “Now what do we do?”

  “Now we get to know
each other.”

  For three years, Taryn and I had been like ships that passed in the night, giving each other dirty looks as we sailed by. My basic knowledge of her consisted of the fact that she was a communications major, grew up in New Jersey, and preferred a tight-fitting dress. She knew my parents were lawyers, that I planned to go to law school, and whatever else Vi had decided to share with her. “It’s going to be a long night for Team Olivyn, huh?”

  She sighed. “Think we can do it without busting each other’s faces in?”

  I shrugged. “I think we’ll manage.”

  We talked about classes until the waiter brought us a bottle of wine. My mouth watered for it as he presented the label to Taryn, who glanced at it and nodded. Then he uncorked it, poured a drop, and handed the glass to me for inspection.

  The fruity, woodsy smell went right to my head. “Perfect,” I said. I knew nothing about wine but had been around enough to know what the waiter expected to hear.

  He filled a glass and handed it to Taryn. “For the lady,” he said. Taryn’s eyes were on me, so she didn’t notice that the guy was blatantly staring at her.

  He topped off my glass. “Thanks,” I said with a scowl. When he lifted his eyes to meet mine, I jerked my head toward the crowd. “We’ll need some time to look at the menu.” He got the hint and left.

  Taryn didn’t seem to care. I held my wine glass to hers. “To honesty, Olivyn, and progress,” I toasted. “And, dare I say, a collaboration.”

  She smiled and clicked my glass. “Salute.”

  With the first sip of the wine, I immediately relaxed. For the most part. Only a few things nagged at me. Like how her hair brushed against her shoulder, forming a curtain over it when she leaned forward and rested her chin in her hand. The curve of her perfectly sculpted arm. The way her lipstick left a brown smudge on the rim of her wine glass. The way she laughed at my quips, like she was truly interested in what I’d said. Those little things nagged at me because they made me feel like this definitely was a date.